


Heat Wave

by yuletide_archivist



Category: Nana
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-12-24
Updated: 2008-12-24
Packaged: 2018-01-25 02:27:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1626692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuletide_archivist/pseuds/yuletide_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nana Komatsu wants to finish making a salad; Nana Osaki has other ideas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heat Wave

**Author's Note:**

> Hats off and much appreciation to autumn_belias, for her last-minute beta!
> 
> Written for Harukami

 

 

Nana Komatsu's pores suffocate with sweat. Not even the super-chique retro fan working overtime, stuttering out a breeze like it's on its last wheezes, brings her relief. Strands of hair cling to her forehead, her cheeks, the back of her neck.

"Stupid heatwave," Nana mutters. No cooked foods today. Neither of them would stand it. She chops in the kitchen (her apron matches her cross-hatched summer dress), slicing tomatoes, cucumbers, lettuce. She leaves the tangerines in the freezer. Nothing like a cold tangerine at the end of a hot day. Well, that and beer, which she also remembered to stock the fridge with. 

The door bangs open as she arranges the slices. "'M home," Nana Osaki calls.

"Welcome back," Nana replies. Her dress and apron stick to her like saran wrap, but her salad is approaching masterpiece status. Red and green and orange fan out in a spiral. Nana smiles, proud. 

"Mmmm," her friend says, peering from behind. So close, it makes Nana all the hotter. But she is already soaked in sweat, and she does not mind. "Looks fantastic, Hachi."

"Thank you," Nana says. Her head is bent, focused on arranging the remaining slices. "There're tangerines--"

On her neck, right where bare skin lies exposed from parted hair, Nana kisses her. Her lips are wet and thick and Nana tingles all over as she flushes into a very different heat from the sort she'd felt all day. "Nana!" she cries, covering her neck with a hand. But Nana, kissing demon, laughs her way out of the kitchen, and Nana can only shake her head, wiping away at her neck.

She lets herself smell her hand, just for a second, before putting the finishing touches to the salad.

 


End file.
